


strawberries & cigarettes

by weasleysking



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, BIG ONES, Character Death, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, I Will Go Down With This Ship, IT 2017 - Freeform, IT 2019, IT Chapter Two Spoilers, Idiots in Love, M/M, Reddie, Spoilers, Whump, im sad, it Stephen king - Freeform, it chapter one, reddie is real, seriously, they're gay and in love and stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 18:42:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20661929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weasleysking/pseuds/weasleysking
Summary: “Richie. C’mon. We need you. Mike and Bev and Bill and Eddie-”At Eddie’s name, Richie jerked violently and his jacket flew out of his hands and onto the ground. He collapsed to sit down on the bed, running his shaking hands through his hair as he sucked in a breath.“Yeah, fine, whatever,” Richie muttered. “I’ll stay. Can you just leave?”Ben sighed and moved to touch Richie gently on the shoulder, then left the room, shutting the door behind him.or; richie and eddie come back to derry twenty seven years later. their feelings come back too.





	strawberries & cigarettes

**Author's Note:**

> hello my loves, i hope you enjoyed chapter two as much as i did. i genuinely enjoyed it more that the book! insane, right??  
this one is dedicated to my number one fan izzie, thanks for all the support and love u give me. u will always be the eddie to my richie, no homo tho <3 
> 
> SPOILERS FOR IT CHPATER TWO IF YOU HAVENT READ OR SEEN IT YET. I CANNOT STRESS THE SPOILERS.

_ I know your secret, Richie.  _

“Come on man. You can’t leave now.” Ben stood in the doorway of Richie’s room at the Derry Town house, leaning against the frame, his arms folded. “What happened that shook you up this much? We all saw stuff too.” 

“I know, I know,” Richie spoke fast and feverishly, throwing things into his bag with shaking hands. “It doesn’t matter dude, I just can’t be here, I’m sorry-” 

_ I know your secret. Your dirty, dirty secret!  _

“Richie. C’mon. We need you. Mike and Bev and Bill and Eddie-” 

At Eddie’s name, Richie jerked violently and his jacket flew out of his hands and onto the ground. He collapsed to sit down on the bed, running his shaking hands through his hair as he sucked in a breath. 

“Yeah, fine, whatever,” Richie muttered. “I’ll stay. Can you just leave?” 

Ben sighed and moved to touch Richie gently on the shoulder, then left the room, shutting the door behind him. 

_ “I’m bored,” Stan announced to the clubhouse room at large. Richie threw someone’s shoe at him from the hammock. “Sucks for you! I’m imagining this comic is porn.”  _

_ “Ugh!” Bev replied, smacking Richie’s face. “Beep beep, Tozier.”  _

_ “L-let’s play something,” Bill replied to Stan, ignoring Richie’s lude comment.  _

_ “But it’s raining,” Mike said, a little downtrodden. “We’re better off inside unless we all want to get sick.”  _

_ “We can play stuff inside too!” Ben replied.  _

_ “Yeah, ever played truth or dare?” Bev replied. “Greta and all them play it all the time. It seems dumb when they do it, but we could make it fun.”  _

_ “That’s such a stupid game,” Eddie scoffed. Richie nodded fervently in reply. “Yeah. Stupid game.”  _

_ “Oh c-come on you two,” Bill said. “Give it a ch-ch-chance.”  _

_ “Fine,” Eddie snorted, but if any of the Losers had stopped for one moment longer to address both Eddie and Richie’s faces, they would have watched both their eyes grow subtly wider and their faces pale.  _

_ “Alright,” Richie replied, plastering a fake grin on his face. “Come at me, amigos.”  _

Richie shivered. He had to get out of here. This… seeing Eddie after all these years. Seeing everyone. It was all too much. He threw his bag over his shoulder and grimaced as he climbed out the window and heard Ben’s voice floating up from downstairs. 

“At least I got Richie to stay.” 

_ “Richie, you never pick truth!” Bev rolled her eyes. “It’s so boring when you only pick dare.”  _

_ “Yeah, because we see you do stupid shit all the time,” Stan said.  _

_ “Sh-shake it up a l-little, why d-don’t you?”  _

No. Nope. Too much. All too much. 

As he drove further away from the town house, he was dismayed that the sinking feeling in his stomach didn’t leave him be. It was when he reached the synagogue where he watched.. God. where he watched Stanley… the day that he... Christ. God. Fuck. He was gonna be sick again. 

Richie stopped his car and lurched out, swaying side to side for a second, then regaining his balance and walking inside. He ran his shaking hands along the edge of the seats, before sitting in the one he recognised as the bench he donned the day he watched Stan step up and speak. He smiled fondly at the memory, feeling a lump form in his throat. 

_ God, Stan. Why’d you have to quit on us now, huh jerk?  _ He thought. As he looked around the empty room, he could remember so clearly, for the first time in 27 years, Stan’s whole speech, how he grinned away as his best friend stood up on the stage, slowly edging away from his father and his fear with the microphone. It was what came later that afternoon that tripped him up. Richie stumbled across that memory like it was a tree root stuck in the middle of a path. 

His heart ached for his bond with Stan, one he had forgotten for  _ 27 fucking years,  _ and now he would never see him again. 

_ “Well that was a surprise and a half!” Richie walked up to Stan, who sat on the edge of the podium, his head in his hands. The synagogue was empty. Everyone had cleared out long ago. He clapped his friend on the back and sat down next to him. “I nearly stood up and whooped, did ya see me? But mom was like nooo Richie that’s inappropriate!” He snorted.  _

_ Stan looked up at him miserably. “I really think I messed up, Richie,” he said softly.  _

_ Richie’s face didn’t often go serious very quickly, but Stan and Richie had always been honest with each other.  _

_ “You didn’t. Really,” Richie told his friend earnestly. “That speech was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen you do. You don’t have to worry about what your dad says. I loved it. And the only people whose opinions matter are the people who love you, not the ones who are jerks.”  _

_ Stan smiled briefly at his friend. “Alright,” Stan said softly. “Can I ask you something then?”  _

_ “Yeah, what is it?”  _

_ “Do you like Eddie?”  _

_ The walls Richie had spent months building up around his brain came crashing down beside him. The room spun and he thought he might throw up.  _

_ “N-no-” Richie stuttered horsley. “W-why would you-” he choked a little. “I’m not gay!” He said loudly, standing up to walk away. “I don’t- that’s- that’s WRONG, Stan-”  _

_ “Richie, relax,” Stan said softly, and his voice, his best friends voice, always brought him comfort. “Sit down, idiot. You sound like Bill with all that stuttering.”  _

_ Richie sat back down, his breath shaky, trying to stop himself from crying because, god, what a loser he was. First he’d cried in front of Bill after Neibolt, now this? What a loser. Disgusting. Wrong. He wasn’t allowed to feel these things.  _

_ “Richie,” Stan said gently. “I’m not gonna say anything. To anyone. I promise. It’s just knowing you so well that’s made me see some stuff others might not have.”  _

_ Richie was still working on breathing.  _

_ “There’s nothing wrong with what you feel, Rich,” Stan whispered, touching Richie’s hand lightly. “I don’t care how many people tell you otherwise. I think it’s cool. And so will the others. If you want to tell them.”  _

_ Richie shook his head violently. “No,” he whispered. “No. Not, not yet. Please.”  _

_ “Okay.”  _

_ Richie sighed and shut his eyes, willing himself away. When he reopened them again, Stan was watching him still.  _

_ “Who knew you could be so wise, huh, Staniel?” Richie smiled weakly, trying to bring back his natural manner. He shoved Stan lightly, and Stan shoved him back.  _

_ They sat there for a while.  _

_ “Thanks,” Richie said quietly.  _

_ “No problem, Rich. Always.”  _

Opening his eyes, Richie could only feel the lump in his throat grow bigger. 

“Fuck Stan,” Richie said out loud. “You were supposed to be the smart one.” 

He couldn’t stay here any longer. He looked at the podium one last time, then he turned and walked out into the daylight, starting his car and turning around, back to the townhouse. 

***

Meanwhile, back at the townhouse, Bev was working on patching up Eddie’s cheek as he described shakily to them what he saw in the basement of Mr Keene’s pharmacy, though he couldn’t help the grin from spreading across his face when they all kept congratulating him on his successful stabbing of Bowers. And yes, Eddie had to admit to himself, he was pretty proud too. But his mind kept flashing back, some sort of weird tunnel vision he was experiencing, almost like his head didn’t want him to focus on the rest of his memories but one. 

_ Eddie walked down the street, whistling softly into his hands. It was a warm, sticky, kind of night, and he was really looking forward to getting home. He wasn’t in a particularly bad mood or anything either. He didn’t feel scared. Fearful. A feeling he had grown so used to over the summer. Avoiding Neibolt street (you can stay in that shit show, you disgusting terrifying leper, thank you very much) he took the long way around, down through Parkers Street. He was doing just fine, Eddie was. Just fine, right up until he heard the voice that made his blood run cold.  _

_ “Hiya Eds!”  _

_ Eddie whipped around, feeling bile rise in his throat and like someone had just shoved his body into a freezer. No one was behind him. He turned back. Or in front of him.  _

_ You imagined it, he told himself, you’re just… you’re just paranoid.  _

_ Pulling out his aspirator, he took a nervous puff and look around him, then continued walking. He sped up only a little.  _

_ “Eddieeee…”  _

_ The voice came again. Eddie’s eyes widened and his breathing picked up again, but still. There wasn’t a single person, or, or thing, around him.  _

_ “It’s okay Eds,” the voice cooed. “You don’t have to run from me!”  _

_ Eddie knew the voice. He knew it. He started to run. That clown, that thing would not be catching up to him today.  _

_ The voice only got louder, the faster Eddie ran.  _

_ “Eddie!” It cried delightedly. “You don’t have to run from me. The only thing you have to run from is what you feel!” It cackled madly.  _

_ More bile rose up in Eddie’s throat and he held back a scream. He ran. He didn’t want to fight. He just wanted to go home.  _

_ “You only have to run from what you feel!” It sang. “You only have to run from what you feel because it’s bad, Eddie, only bad boys think like you do-”  _

_ “SHUT UP!” Eddie screamed, still running. He couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe and how did the stupid clown even know how did it know oh god oh god does everyone know  _

_ “ONLY BAD BOYS THING LIKE YOU DO, EDDIE,” It’s voice rose gleefully. “CUTE, CUTE, CUTE!”  _

_ “STOP!” Eddie screamed. He could see his house now. He could make it but oh god he couldn’t breathe- _

_ “YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO THINK ABOUT RICHIE LIKE THAT-”  _

_ Eddie reached his house, he fell in the doorway, slamming it behind him, cutting the voice off. Sinking to the ground, his back to the door, he put his head in his hands and began to sob.  _

Eddie shot up, gasping. 

“Eddie, a-are you okay?” Bill’s voice came in Eddie’s ears, and Eddie sat up properly now. He had been lying on his bed. 

“You blanked out on us there, for a moment!” Mike said, frowning concernedly at Eddie’s frantic manner. “Are you alright?”

“I’m- I’m-” 

Eddie’s mind was racing. Jesus Christ, how could he forget? How could he forget? 

“I’m fine,” he panted. “Sorry… just. You know. Remembering. Things.” 

“Yeah don’t worry, I’ve had a few of those moments too,” Bev said darkly. Eddie nodded, standing up slowly. “I just need a breather for a second. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” 

The others nodded, and Eddie wandered down the stairs and collapsed into a couch. 

He had been, what, 11 years old, that day? So he must of been 10 when he realised. 10 years old, a fucking baby, when he realised that he was different. Bad. Wrong. 

Every single thing he’d felt for Richie throughout those years came flooding back to him in one instant, and he thought, for a second, he might puke. He  _ loved  _ Richie. He’d known that for so long, spent so many years hating himself for that, and then what? As soon as he moved from Derry, he just… forgot? Could he even call it love, if he’d forgotten, that easily? 

_ Ah, but maybe you never forgot,  _ a sly voice in his head reminded him. He thought back to all the times he’d spent with Myra. Ha. Myra. If he knew one thing for sure, it was that he did not love Myra. He knows what he did. He practically married his mother. And dear lord, he was aware of that as much as anyone else, he knew as soon as he got the phone call from Mike, and it all came back to him. 

Oh yes. The phone call. 

Richie’s face was the first one to flash past him, when Mike called. He saw it in a blink, the freckled dork with glasses, and his head hurt. 

And then when he’d bumped into Richie in the parking lot outside the Chinese restaurant last night, God help him, he hadn’t felt that young, free or  _ happy  _ in years. 

For God’s sake. Fuck. 

FUCK. 

He leaned back against the couch and groaned. 

***

When Richie arrived back at the townhouse, his heart did the strangest flip he’d ever felt. It half sunk because, oh god,  _ Eddie was sitting right there and he didn’t know if he could do this right now,  _ and yet, it blew up like a hot air balloon like it always did, because, you know, it was  _ Eddie.  _

Eddie opened his eyes and Richie was standing awkwardly in the door frame. He scrambled up. He thought if he opened his mouth he would either scream, cry, or blurt out the very thing he had spent his entire life repressing. So he grinned as convincingly as he could at Richie, who’s “Hey Eds!” sounded about as strained as Eddie felt. 

Bev, Bill, Ben and Mike came down the stairs then, breaking the energy exchange between the two men. 

“Well, we all got our weird hellish tokens,” Ben said. “What’s next, Mikey?” 

  
  


***

“I THINK I GOT IT, RICHIE!” Eddie screamed over the noise. “RICHIE! I THINK I GOT IT! I THINK IT’S DEAD THIS TIME! I THINK-” 

A sharp, bloody talon tore through Eddie’s chest. 

He stopped promptly, and he gurgled a scream. Richie’s heart stopped, and he heard Beverly scream, “NO!” From behind him. But this wasn’t happening… this wasn’t happening… Eddie would be okay… he had to be okay…. 

Eddie fell down beside Richie, and Richie, breathing heavily, pulled Eddie over to shelter, as far from that  _ thing  _ as he could muster. The others all crowded around. 

“Eddie…” 

Eddie looked up, his shirt covered in blood, his face white, shaking violently. 

“Eds-” 

“Richie…” Eddie whispered. Richie grabbed his hands on instinct. 

“Yeah, yeah, Eddie, what is it?” 

“I…. I….” 

“What Eddie, what?” He could hear Bev crying behind him. But it didn’t matter to him, because Eddie wasn’t dying. He couldn’t be. 

“I fucked your mom,” Eddie whispered, choking on his blood in his laughter. Richie shoved him gently, trying not to hurt him. “Fuck you,” he grinned. 

If Eddie could say that, he could do anything. He wasn’t dying. They could get him out. Richie stood back up. 

_ I’ll be right back,  _ he promised Eddie in his head. 

***

Eddie knew he was dying. 

He could hear the others fighting. It was so loud. 

“Richie,” he called out, but his voice was hoarse. “Richie, come back…” the tears started leaking out of his eyes. He was dying, but he could hold on. He needed to hold on. He couldn’t die without telling him. 

“Richie please…” 

No one could hear him. 

He was dying. 

***

Eddie’s fourth to last thought was the Losers. How they’d saved him. 

Eddie’s third to last thought was a sunny evening when he was fourteen years old. He and Richie had sat on the roof of Richie’s house, watching the sunset as Richie smoked. Eddie used to hate that smell, but when Richie smoked, the smell only mixed with the stupid strawberry shampoo he was obsessed with. And that was a smell that brought nothing but comfort. 

They had sat there all afternoon, then all evening, just talking. It was one of Eddie’s nicest memories. 

Eddie’s second to last thought was that he wished he’d told Richie. 

Eddie’s last thought was that he didn’t want his last thought to be regret. So he just imagined Richie. 

***

Eddie was dead. 

***

“WHY ISN’T HE WAKING UP?” Richie screamed. “WE CAN GET HIM- WE CAN-” 

“Richie,” Ben said, his voice cracking. “Richie, we have to go-” 

“NO,” Richie screamed. He cradled Eddie’s body in his arms, tears streaking through the dirt on his face. Eddie wasn’t dead. Eddie couldn’t be dead. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. 

“Richie, he’s gone.” 

***

Richie couldn’t help but sob as the Losers held him the water. He couldn’t help but cry for the lost time, the time he and Eddie had never made up. He couldn’t avoid the tears that streamed down his cheeks, each one a memory of Eddie, dripping off his chin into the water. 

He wondered if Eddie knew. 

  
  


***

As Richie drove out of Derry, he stopped his car at the kissing bridge and ran his hand across the dry wood, not caring if it splintered. Smiling, half crying, half laughing at his younger self, he touched the  _ R + E  _ that had stood the test of time. He brushed his hand across it once more, then stood up, exhaling heavily and got back into his car, driving away, the sun setting, orange and red in his rear view mirror, just like it had that evening on the roof all those years ago. 

Eddie was gone, but the memory of him was not. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!  
come cry with me over fiction on tumblr @miss-mysticfalls  
<3


End file.
